Chapter 37: Chapter 37

^NOVEMBER 1970^

DOROTHY

I can’t even tell you what day it is. All I know is that it’s November and Thanksgiving is just around the corner. The thought of spending my first holiday without family is a tough pill to swallow.

Clayton often tells me that he’s my family. It’s a sweet sentiment, but he’s not exactly around, being dead and all.

I whip up something to eat and decide to watch some TV while I dine. The evening news comes on with a breaking story.

~“The courthouse was engulfed in flames today, leaving nothing but ash and smoke. The fire chief believes it started in the files room due to an electrical issue. Everything was lost.~

~“This means that all trials are on hold for now. The DA mentioned it would be difficult to conduct a fair trial due to the fire. They have no evidence to present to the courts. Back to you, Jane.”~

Later that week, I learn that Willie Stiles was released due to a lack of evidence.

I try to track him down and bring him back, but no dice. If I were him, I’d probably stay away and never look back.

^APRIL 7, 1971^

Spring is here, and the grass is starting to sprout. I haven’t had anyone on the property since Willie was arrested, and I’ve been here all winter.

I call the local paper and place an ad in the help wanted section.

~Seeking experienced groundskeeper for property maintenance. Year-round outdoor chores at Strange Estates.~

~Must be willing to live on the property full-time. Separate cabin provided. Offering $15,000 a year. Experience required.~

The next morning, there’s a knock at my front door. I open it to find a young man who looks about my age. He’s thin with prominent bushy eyebrows.

“Is this Strange Estates? The one looking for a groundskeeper?” he asks, holding the wanted ad in his hand.

“It is. Are you here for the job?” I ask, and he nods. I open the door wider to let him in, then gesture towards the dining room as I watch him enter. He pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Detrick, ma’am.”

“Do you have a last name?”

“No, ma’am. I was orphaned as a baby. I don’t know my parents and don’t want to know them.”

He takes a seat. “Coffee?” I ask.

“Yes, please.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“No, thank you. I like it black. The way it was meant to be drunk,” he says.

“I tried to drink it black, couldn’t stomach it. A little cream and sugar is just right for me.” I slide the coffee cup in front of him. “Is that for me?” I ask, pointing at the paper.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, handing it over.

“So, you’ve held one job, looks like for six years?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see you were the head groundskeeper for the Pembroke Country Club. What did you do there?” I ask.

“Mowed and maintained the grass on all eighteen holes. Took care of the flowers around the clubhouse. I also did maintenance on all the equipment on the property.”

“Would you be willing to live here and maintain this property all year long?” I ask.

“Yes, ma’am. Right now, I’m between places.”

“Well, I must say, you’re a perfect candidate for the job. But, by law, I have to interview others. I hope you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. I do,” he says.

I walk him to the front door and notice there isn’t a car in the driveway. “Did you walk here?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have a license, I just don’t have a car right now,” he says as he turns around and faces me. “Thank you for the interview.” He shakes my hand.

“The pleasure was all mine,” I say as I watch him start the walk down the driveway.

Later that day, I finish writing my book. I pull the last piece of paper out of the typewriter and add it to the stack next to it. I’m so proud of myself.

This is a big deal for me. I’ve never been able to finish anything I’ve started. Once I started writing on the typewriter, everything just flowed out of me. I wanted to finish it, and I did.

This is just one book. I have so many ideas for more books in the future. I want to believe it’s this house with all its mystery that it holds—it gives me the power to finish something.

I tuck the whole book into a manila folder but have no address to send it. I call the operator, and she gives me the address for Stallworth Publishing here in town.

I write the address on the envelope and lick a dozen stamps to stick on it.

It’s a beautiful day as I walk to my car. I stop and look down the driveway. ~I think I’ll walk to the mailbox today.~

***

When I get back to the house, I decide to walk over to Willie’s cabin. I open the door, and everything is still there from the night he was arrested.

He had no family to collect his stuff. Plus, I think he was scared of me the night I threatened to kill him. He never came back for his things.

~If I’m going to have a new groundskeeper, I should at least clean up the cabin for when they move in.~ I decide to clean the place up.

Once I’ve finished cleaning up the cabin, I box everything up that was his. I keep all the furniture and everything in the kitchen.

~I’ll call Goodwill in the morning to pick this stuff up.~

A week passes.

I’m typing away when it hits me that I haven’t received any applicants for the groundskeeper job. Detrick is the only person to have applied.

I’ve been so engrossed in writing my second book; everything I type is pouring out of me like a flood.

I hear my phone ringing. I get up from the dining room table and answer the call.

“Hello… Yes, this is she… You’re interested in my book?… I’m flattered, and yes, I’m currently working on my second one… Thank you, Mr. Stallworth… Goodbye.”

I put the phone down and let out a squeal of joy. “They loved it! They want to publish my book!” I exclaim to the empty room, just as there’s a knock on the front door.

I make my way through the kitchen to answer it. Detrick is there, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry to intrude, ma’am, but I was wondering—”

I cut him off mid-sentence. “The job is yours if you still want it,” I say, swinging the screen door open. “No one else came for the interview.”

“That’s a shame,” he replies. “When can I start?”

“Right now, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Do you need me to show you to the cabin?” I ask.

“No, ma’am, I know the way,” he says, tipping his hat before heading off toward the cabin nestled in the woods.

***

The next morning, the sound of a small engine outside my bedroom window rouses me from sleep. I pull on my robe and peek out the window to see Detrick on a mower, tending to the overgrown grass.

I get dressed and head to the kitchen. The aroma of coffee fills the air, and I see a pot waiting on the stove. I pour myself a cup and step out into the backyard.

Detrick must notice me because he stops mowing.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Did I wake you?”

“No, not at all. Where did you get that mower?” I ask.

“I borrowed it from the country club. Your lawn hasn’t been mowed in a while, and I needed something heavy-duty,” he explains. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course. Do whatever you need to do.”

I watch as Detrick resumes his work, circling the house. Clayton appears beside me.

“I like him,” he says. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, grinning before disappearing back into the woods.